


For the First Time

by savorvrymoment



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorvrymoment/pseuds/savorvrymoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~It’s an intimate picture, a picture of two lovers, not two male friends. Johnny feels like he shouldn’t be watching, and he looks away despite himself.~  Old one-shot moved from livejournal.  Written for 'first times' prompt at slashfightclub in 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the First Time

Johnny’s the last one to join the band, worming his way in to replace a bassist who didn't so much play as beat on his instrument. Sure, Johnny’s younger—too young to even drink. Legally. But there is one thing he’s good at…  
  
He plays the bass like he sold his soul to a demon. And he knows it, too.   
  
Of course, he’s still the kid of the group, almost three years younger than all the rest. And with whiskey and wild hormones, it’s inevitable that he becomes the designated punching bag for the rest of the band.   
  
The first time he gets punched in the face, kicked in the nuts, and then thrown head first into a trashcan, he tells himself it’s like his initiation. Hazing. The other guys are welcoming him in their own special way.  
  
By the tenth time, he’s fucking tired of it.   
  
It’s Zack that he rears up on. The guy’s had one too many—what’s new? And he’s grinning, laughing, making crude gestures at Brian about the size of Johnny’s member. They’re sniggering like idiots, and it’s really not that funny—he’s 5’4”, okay? It’s proportional.   
  
And then Zack gets up, blundering over, and grabs Johnny by the crotch. Brian’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and Johnny doesn’t know where Matt and Jimmy went off to, anyway. And then Zack starts tugging at the waist of his jeans, apparently to get a better look, as if they’ve never seen each other naked before. All of them, between closed quarters and lack of privacy in some of the crappy venues.  
  
And Johnny just finally decides that enough is enough, grabs Zack by his stupid purple highlights, and shoves him face-first into the pavement.   
  
There’s suddenly a lot of squawking, and yelling, and cursing. Zack’s pinwheeling his arms around, and in any other position, he’d be able to overpower Johnny. But Johnny has a knee on Zack’s shoulderblades, is putting his back into in, and all Zack can do is yell in a mixture of anger and pain.  
  
Then, suddenly, Johnny’s being bodily picked up, lifted off of Zack, and thrown. He lands a couple of yards away, rolling across the pavement, the breath whooshing out of him upon impact. He puts a hand to his chest, trying to breathe again, but then Brian’s there, looming over him, a hand grabbing him by the chin and turning Johnny’s face to meet his own.   
  
Johnny’s pants up at him as Brian snarls, “You touch him again, kid? And you won’t live to talk about it.”  
  
And just as quickly as it’d all happened, Brian’s gone, leaving Johnny alone to roll to his side, leverage himself up to his hands and knees, cough and gasp for breath. He looks over to his right, to where Brian’s on his knees by Zack’s side, and immediately stops at the picture.  
  
Brian’s kneeling by Zack’s side, where Zack is sitting up, looking a bit woozy, a hand held to his split and bleeding lip. Zack’s cheek is scraped up, and Brian has a hand along his chin, a gentle hand, inspecting the damage. His other hand is cupping the back of Zack’s head, thumb softly stroking at the hair.   
  
It’s an intimate picture, a picture of two lovers, not two male friends. Johnny feels like he shouldn’t be watching, and he looks away despite himself.   
  
It’s the first time he really sees them, and it’s the first time he wonders.   
  
It’s the last time he ever gets any shit.   
  
~*~  
  
It’s years later before it ever comes up again.   
  
Not that Johnny misses things. He’s not stupid, contrary to popular opinion. He sees the way they look at each other, the way they stand just a little too close, always sit with their thighs touching. The way their guitar playing is practically foreplay.  
  
But the first time he really sees it for what it is is after City of Evil comes out. After they’ve reached some level of success, the live shows a little more full, people in the crowd singing their songs back to them. There’s an air of happiness all through the band, and Johnny should maybe expect that something will happen.   
  
But it still shocks him when he turns the corner backstage at a venue, a little lost, looking for one of the other bandmembers or crew, and finds them pressed into the opposite corner, kissing.   
  
It’s happy kissing. High on life kissing. High on love kissing. It’s all there, written in the way Brian’s hands are tugging on Zack’s hair—not pulling him away, just enthusiastic—and the way Zack’s holding onto Brian’s ridiculous belts, one hand on the black one and one hand on the white one. Brian’s fedora is long forgotten about, sitting on the floor at their feet.   
  
Johnny quietly backs up, and heads the other way down the venue, mind spinning.   
  
~*~  
  
The first time he actually says it out loud, it’s to Lacey. He feels safer opening his mouth there. No possible negative consequences that could result from saying something to someone closer to the band. Lacey, though? Lacey’s content to curl up next to him on the sidelines of fame, and would no doubt keep her mouth shut.   
  
They’re lying in bed afterwards, quiet and sated, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest, and he asks, “So. Have you noticed Brian and Zack?”  
  
She turns in bed to squint up at him, says, “Noticed them? Noticed what exactly?”  
  
“You know…” he says, trailing off. He’s not sure what to say. It’s awkward.  
  
“That they’re fucking?” Lacey asks. Johnny thinks his eyes might bug out of his head. Lacey giggles at him a bit, settles back down in the bed. “Honey, it’s a bit obvious.”  
  
“Oh,” Johnny says, frowning.   
  
“Should I be worried that you’re bringing this up after we just had sex?” Lacey asks, amusement obvious in her voice.  
  
Johnny can’t help but laugh. He smacks her on the ass lightly, says, “Let me know when you wanna go again.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, says, “In the morning. Go to sleep.”  
  
He huffs in mock disappointed—okay, he’s kind of tired too—and curls up to sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
The first time he catches them fucking is luckily his last.  
  
Johnny doesn’t think there’s anyone on the bus, and he just wants to get his hoodie. He looks in his bunk, can’t find it there, so he wanders to the back lounge instead.  
  
They’re there on the couch, Zack in Brian’s lap. They aren’t going hard or fast, Zack just kind of rocking in Brian’s lap, hand lazily stripping his cock. Brian’s head is thrown back against the back of the couch, one hand on Zack’s hip to steady him, the other playing with one of Zack’s nipples. But Brian’s effectively just sitting there doing nothing, letting Zack do the work—typical Brian, Johnny takes the time to think before promptly freaking out.   
  
Especially freaking out when Zack’s head snaps up, green eyes going wide as saucers.   
  
And Johnny, lame as hell, says, “Sorry, guys. Didn’t think there was anyone on the bus.” He then proceeds to grab his sweatshirt off the floor in front of him and leaves, blushing redder than a turnip.   
  
He runs into Zack later, a couple of hours before the show.   
  
“So, uh…” Zack says, fidgeting.   
  
Johnny inexplicably wonders if his ass is sore, then feels like a pervert. But then he wonders the same thing about Lacey sometimes, so he tries to reason that this isn’t that much different. “Uh,” Johnny answers. “Sorry about that. I’ll, uh, knock next time. Or, you know, say ‘I’m here!’ Or something…”  
  
“Okay, cool,” Zack says, face beet read. “We’ll, uh, try to be more discreet.”  
  
“It’s cool,” Johnny says. “No big deal.”  
  
“Cool,” Zack says.  
  
“Yeah, cool,” Johnny echoes.  
  
They nod, and things are somehow okay after that.  
  
Brian ignores him for three days, apparently deciding that if he can’t see Johnny, Johnny can’t see him in all his manly embarassment. Then, just like that, he starts talking to Johnny.  
  
And things are okay again.   
  
It’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to him, and Johnny really wants to say something to Matt or Jimmy about it, but he doesn’t even know if they know. Like, _know_. Or at least, if they know, they don’t talk about it. Maybe that’s protocol. Like fight club. Don’t talk about it.   
  
So he tells Lacey, because he has to tell _someone._  
  
Lacey just laughs at him.  
  
~*~  
  
The first time he talks to them about it—really talks to them, not just skirts around the embarrassment of walking in on them—is at Matt and Val’s wedding.   
  
Lacey has excused herself to the ladies’ room—and judging from the way she’d dragged three other girlfriends with her, Johnny has a suspicion the trip is less about the toilet and more about make-up and gossip. So he leaves her be, heads back to their table instead after grabbing a fresh glass of champagne.   
  
The wedding party table is empty save for Brian, who’s looking slick as ever, tuxedo jacket unbuttoned and hanging a bit too messy, but he pulls it off with style and grace. He takes his eyes off the dance floor as Johnny approaches, spares Johnny a quick, happy grin, before his eyes slide right back to the dance floor.   
  
It takes Johnny a minute to figure out what Brian is looking at. The dance floor is crowded, a lot of people up on their feet and celebrating, but then Johnny’s eyes land on Zack, a huge grin on the man’s face, dancing with his five-year-old niece.   
  
They make a picture: Zack, tuxedo jacket shed and forgotten about, white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal the myriad of tattoos on his arms, the two snakebites glinting at his lips. And the little girl, dressed in a poofy pink dress, lacy bow in her hair, little pink matching shoes.   
  
Brian’s watching the scene in what Johnny can only describe as pure adoration. And the question slips out before he has a chance to think about it…  
  
“You really love him, don’t you?”  
  
Brian visibly balks, slowly taking his eyes away from the dancefloor to survey Johnny with frustration.   
  
“I just…” Johnny says, motioning vaguely, trying to encompass Brian and Zack and _everything_. “You guys are so—close,” he finishes, quite lamely.   
  
Brian squints his eyes at him, and finally relents, “Yeah, I do.” Then, an afterthought, a cover-up of feelings that are so strong they can’t be covered up, “I guess.”  
  
“Yeah,” Johnny says, nodding.   
  
Silence between them descends for a moment, the music still playing strong. They both watch as the song ends, Zack twirling his giggling niece around one last time before giving her a hug. And then, before Zack can make it back over to the table as well, he’s caught by a brother, or a cousin, or someone… Johnny doesn’t actually recognize him. They’re laughing, though, heads thrown back, happy.   
  
“How long have you known?” Brian asks suddenly.  
  
“Huh?” Johnny responds.  
  
“How long have you known? About us?” Brian clarifies. Then, “You’d known before you walked in on us. I know you, and you were way too fucking calm about it.”  
  
Brian smirks at him, all Elvis grin, and Johnny finds himself laughing. He runs a hand over his face, scrounges up a response, because how long has he really known? Maybe a lot longer than he realizes… “Figured it out that first year I joined,” Johnny says.  
  
“Naw shit?” Brian says, leaning forward a bit, obviously interested. “We’d just started… Well, how’d you?”  
  
“You probably don’t even remember,” Johnny says. Maybe it’s the champagne, or maybe it’s the way these sorts of memories become funny with time, but he finds himself laughing. “I got in a fight with Zack, was rubbing his face in the concrete. And you picked me up and fucking threw me off of him. Like, bodily picked me up and threw me through the air. Totally defended his honor, or whatever…”  
  
Brian snorts through his nose, says, “I don’t remember that.”  
  
“You were both pretty drunk,” Johnny recalls. Brian laughs.   
  
“Sounds about right,” he says, glancing up as Zack wanders up to him. They both take a moment to grin at each other like idiots, and then Zack grabs Brian’s champagne glass and finishes off the last swallow.   
  
And with that, Brian grabs Zack by the back of the neck, pulls him forward, and crushes their lips together. Zack drops the champagne glass to the table, eyes open in shock, and as quickly as Brian had snagged him up, he lets him go.   
  
Zack pulls away, blinking wildly at them both.  Brian swipes a thumb across the corner of his mouth, and looks at Johnny as if daring him to say something.    
  
Johnny just raises his own champagne glass to them both in salute.


End file.
